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Inspiration Poetry

Forsaken

My heart ponders, in a tight basket.

Where my heart ponders, it is cold and tight.

It was left outside.

The door was shot. Out of fear of the depth. Deep waters are muddy, maybe.

Afraid of ancient Mesopotamian entities, hands draw back.

Muddy waters. A risk, for those, who are clean.

I was searching for a cleaner, a sanitary.

Out in the desert, that was cold.